


The Taste of Her Lips

by tapdancinghippo



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tapdancinghippo/pseuds/tapdancinghippo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can still taste her on your lips, feel her under your fingertips, and when you breathe in, all you can smell is her perfume.</p><p>And, pretty soon, everything that you see will remind you of her and you'll know that your life is no longer your own.  It will forever be shared with her – with every cup of coffee that you drink, every song you sing along to on the radio, every newspaper that you buy just in case her name is in there... if will all remind you of her and how she is no longer yours.</p><p>Maybe she never was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taste of Her Lips

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to start transferring my fics from ff.net, since they seem to think their users are a bunch of asshats who don't need a user-friendly site. In the meantime, here's a ficlet I wrote for a tumblr buddy.

You can still taste her on your lips, feel her under your fingertips, and when you breathe in, all you can smell is her perfume.

And, pretty soon, everything that you see will remind you of her and you'll know that your life is no longer your own. It will forever be shared with her – with every cup of coffee that you drink, every song you sing along to on the radio, every newspaper that you buy just in case her name is in there... if will all remind you of her and how she is no longer yours.

Maybe she never was.

You'll see a tiny brunette walking down the street and halfheartedly wonder if it's her, but it never is. You'll hear a laugh that sounds exactly like her boisterous laughter, and your heart will start to race when you imagine her smiling and laughing at a dumb joke someone made, but when you see that it isn't her, you shake your head and curse yourself for being so foolish. She's not coming back to you and you know that.

The one night that the two of you shared will always be etched in your mind, even if she forgets, or wants to forget. You know she loved you. In that moment, she loved you. She didn't have to say it, but the look in her eyes as you held her after your first, and last, time together said everything that you dreamt she'd say one day. 

Her eyes promised you forever, but when you heard her whisper, “I can't,” you knew that forever was how long you would be waiting for her.

Some days, you wonder where she is, how she is. Is she happy with him? Does he remember that she's vegetarian (sometimes vegan)? Does he know that she likes her back rubbed until she falls asleep? Does he even know what her favorite Broadway musical is? Because you do. You'll always remember.

No matter how many people you try to replace her with, they never measure up. Relationships are short, or casual, never serious. Your friends make fun of you, because you “clearly have a type”. Short. Brunette. Possibly borderline sociopaths. But they're never her.

The only thing you can do is hope to God that each day hurts a little less and that you have the strength to carry on without her. You know that you'll never forget the look in her tear-filled eyes when she turned back to look at you one last time after you said you loved her. She replied, “I know,” and walked out the door and out of your life.

It's been over a year since then and you've opened countless blank e-mails, wanting to tell her to come back and you'd treat her so much better than he ever would, but you never send them. It's cathartic, in a way, to be able to tell an e-mail all of your hopes and wishes, only to erase them with the click of a button, almost as easily as she erased you from her life.

You're still hopeful that, maybe one day, you'll check your e-mail or phone and see her name come across the screen and she'll say, “Hi, I've missed you,” and you'll answer, “Not as much as I've missed you,” and she'll tell you she's ready to come home. But until that day arrives, you'll have the taste of her lips, the feeling on your fingertips, and the trail of her perfume that she left from your bed to the door.


End file.
